“It is not the walls that make the city, but the people who live within them. The walls of London may be battered, but the spirit of the Londoner stands resolute and undismayed.”
King George VI, in a broadcast on September 23, 1940, to the Empire during the German bomber offensive.
For the terms of service:
“Employees entering this sterile area are subject to inspection.”
At the Lanesborough. Not really my cup of tea, but it was a spirited walk, past the original Hard Rock, and then into the tea room. Or whatever room. High Tea, mid-afternoon. To suggest I was a little under-attired, yeah, well, it was an accident we wound up there, and I couldn’t refuse High Tea, the elegant sandwiches with the crust cut off? Tea and Crumpets, or rather, tea and scones, and then, some tea cakes, which could’ve been crumpets by another name.
The opening round was a shot glass with an “Amuse Bouche” therein, “Jellied cider with fresh blueberries and carmelized walnuts sprinkled across the top. Can’t fool me, that was a Jello Shot. Fancy name for the same thing.
Well, that explains a lot:
“Every city has a sex and an age which have nothing to do with demography. Rome is feminine. So is Odessa. London is a teenager, an urchin, and it hasn’t changed since the time of Dickens. Paris, I believe, is man in his twenties in love with an older woman.”
John Berger, author and critic.
A little walking to prevent those senior moments.
Not to some of us.
There’s just something weird about a traditional Muslim (admit it, I don’t know, Eastern Indian?) head gear, the scarf and all, with a T-shirt that has the name of metal band on it. In “heavy metal” script.
Yeah, right on.